


The Legacy

by DinerGirl



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:55:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28365777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DinerGirl/pseuds/DinerGirl
Summary: A tale of love, loss and family secrets set against the background of World War Two. September 1939, The "Bore War" is raging in the English countryside and Juliette Burleigh is attempting to run the estate she has unexpectedly inherited. Her parents and brothers dead, abandoned by her lover, Juliette searches for meaning. She finds it in three evacuees from the slums of Birmingham. Yet, Juliette is unaware of just how much their presence will alter her life irrevocably and reveal truths many thought buried forever.
Kudos: 1





	The Legacy

November 1939, Staffordshire, England

The village of Broughton lay 50 miles to the south of Birmingham in a small valley that was thick with trees and swaddled in the brown comfort of farmland. Its population was no more than 200 people and it had remained this way since Henry VI had bequeathed this small pocket of Midlands countryside to a young courtier called Stuart Burleighe. And so, generation after generation for five hundred years, a Burleigh or his son had kept a watchful eye over the people of Broughton. It was this esteemed heritage that Lord Alfred Burleigh thought of as he surveyed the rolling acres of hillsides and farms and dormant fields that lay around him. To a watchful observer, he would have been the taller of the two men who, silhouetted by shadows, made their way through the bracken to a flat plateau at the side of Burleigh Hall that afternoon. They seated themselves on a bench at the edge of a wide copse of trees that stretched away from the house. The older man wore a pensive expression. Burleigh’s chest hurt. Though he was a dying man, the thing that haunted him most was this legacy; this inheritance that seemed to be dying with him, running through the hourglass faster than he could prevent it. As though it was muscle memory, he dabbed his mouth and a small bead of crimson bloomed onto the starched square of linen in his hand. The younger man at his side lit a cigarette and settled next to him, gazing towards the river that spliced the countryside in two in the distance. 

“You wanted to talk, Sir?”

“Less of the Sir, Edward,” Alfred coughed, “ You’ve known me too long for that,” Alfred smiled at the younger man who at various points in Burleigh’s thinning history had been his valet, his footman and lately, his land agent. He took the proffered cigarette, his thoughts shaken back to the present moment and to the young man who had been his ward and lately, his friend, for over twenty years. 

“You know,” Edward Croft produced a lighter from his pocket, the tiny flame quivered in the wind but held firm, allowing him to light Lord Burleigh’s cigarette, “you shouldn’t smoke these. Not in your condition.”

“My condition?” Alfred laughed, his chest rattling like the pop-pop of Saturday shooting party guns, “I think it’s shutting the stable door somewhat, don’t you? It’s got me, Croft. I’ve got one lung left, where’s the point?”

“I suppose,” Edward said, a plume of smoke escaping with a sigh, “though I’m sorry for it.”

“No,” Alfred turned on the bench, smiled at Edward, “You needn’t be. I’ve lived a long, happy life. Travelled the world, fallen in love, had my children, done the work I was supposed to. I’d say that’s fine enough for anybody. I’m an old man. It’s the way of things, Edward. Your father said the same to me in the trenches, hell fire falling around us.”

“Well, all the same, thank yo-.”

“No need,” Alfred reached out and landed an avuncular hand on Edward’s shoulder. “I promised your father as much. He saved my life. After Hester died and then Charles and then your father, I didn’t know what I’d do. A widower with three children to care for, a son dead in the war. Then, this estate to run. We got through it somehow, didn’t we?”

“Yes,” Edward sucked heavily on the thin, white tip, his hands reddened by the cold, “We did and now there’s another one. Another war, I mean.”

“Oh, yes,” Alfred coughed again, littering the swirling pattern of a paisley pocket square, with more of the crimson droplets that did not seem to relent. “Without a doubt, though I’m sure it won’t be as bad as before. Rationing, evacuation, it’s all underway now because of Mr. Chamberlain’s poor choices. We’ll be at war with Germany for a bloody long time yet Croft, believe me.”

“Really?” Edward frowned at his employer, a man who had spent his entire life pacing the corridors of Westminster. “ I thought there were still peace talks happening.”

“They are. Yet, I’m afraid those peace talks will do little to stop Hitler now,” Alfred nodded, “but, that’s by the by. All of this will come in time. I’ve a favour to ask you.” Alfred turned to Edward and fixed him with an uncharacteristically stony glare, “It’s serious.”

“Whatever is it?” An odd pique of apprehension curled upwards in Edward’s chest and he nodded at Alfred.

“You know how much difficulty this house had faced within my lifetime. You know, too, that I am in the singular position of having no male heir to whom I can leave the Burleigh Estate and everything that entails. I am faced with the fact that Charles was killed with your father in France in the Great War and now Alec is also gone. I have no blood-sons left.”

“You have a daughter,” Edward said, “ Juliette will do as good a job as either of them.”

“She’s no man, though, Edward.”

“She can do her best until she’s married or has a son of her own. She’s as well educated as your sons. She’s lived here her whole life, Sir. She knows this estate better than anyone. The tenants like her.”

“Well, Alec should have inherited and now he’s gone. I’ve no one to keep the name going and I do not know what to do. I wonder if I should sell. But, who would buy it? Not even the bloody army wanted to requisition this place there’s so many holes in it.”

“You have done all you can. Juliette will do a fine job, Sir.”

For a moment, Alfred paused and drew heavily on the cigarette in his shaking fingers, steeling himself for what came next, “One would hope, wouldn’t one, that I had done my best? However I’m afraid this is not entirely true. I failed Alec, Edward. I failed him in the worst way a father can fail a son.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Alfred. You did all you could. The doctors told you as much, didn’t they? You said the operation failed, an accident, that’s all.”

“It didn’t fail though, Edward. That’s the thing. I mean, it did but not as it should have. Not as you think.”

“Why are you speaking in riddles?”Edward’s face twisted in confusion. “What’s happened?”

“This is what I need to speak about,” Alfred shifted on the bench, “As far as you know and as far as the rest of the house is aware, my second son was suffering from violent delusions and outbursts brought on by the untimely death of his mother and his older brother, from drugs and shell shock and booze. The operation to calm him failed, he died on the operating table at the Birmingham General Hospital.”

“Yes,” Edward answered, watching Alfred raise a shaking hand to his mouth and draw on the cigarette.

“I’m ashamed to say that though my son died in mind that February day, he did not die in body, Edward.”

Edward shook his head at Burleigh, “What?”

“I mean,” Burleigh continued, sucked on the cigarette, “The grave in the churchyard down there contains an empty box that awaits an empty body.”

“What are you talking about, Alfred? Alec is dead.”

“No,” Alfred shook his head, his eyes meeting Edward’s, his stare hard and unflinching, “No, he isn’t.”

Edward shifted, turning to look at Alfred, “What do you mean?” Edward’s breath grew still, caught itself in his chest like a terrible flower, a realisation blooming in the shadows so that with such understanding Edward could correct himself to ask a truer, more terrible question, “What have you done?” 

“My son is not dead, Edward.” Alfred repeated himself, his tone rising as though speaking to someone particularly stupid and particularly frustrating. “He is not living either, not in the way that I just described myself living. But, Christ, for his sake I wish he had died that day. I wish the poor boy had.” Alfred turned away, wiped at the tears that rolled heavily down his cheeks with the patterned handkerchief which he drew again from his pocket, “I’m sorry. I’m being cryptic when there’s no need to be. What a bloody mess. Let me explain.”

“He’s dead, you’re tired, sir. This illness-”

“No!” Burleigh shouted, “Listen to me, boy!”

Edward nodded mutely, ready to hear whatever revelation Alfred Burleigh had to share.

“You remember I mentioned that some time before the operation, Alec had been involved in an altercation with Katie Bird?”

“I do,” Edward said, remembering the story of a fight; of blood and the shouting and the horror that he had been told of on that awful night that January. It had been early 1937. “You told me before; Alec had been drinking, things got out of hand. The girl was dismissed.”

Alfred nodded, “The episode was worse than I initially explained. It was a shameful night, one I’d rather forget.”

“Why?” Edward asked, “What happened?”

“Alec raped the girl, Edward.”

“Jesus.”

“No one must know the truth, do you understand?”

“You mean to tell me Alec, your son, my friend, forced himself on a parlour maid?” 

“A terrible affair,” Alfred began.

“Surely not? I can’t...No, it can’t be-” 

“Well, it was.” Burleigh’s voice was surgical, his breath curling into the air, “It was in January. The house was quiet after New Year, most of the staff were away visiting family, as you were, and it was Fred, Alec and Myself. Katie Bird, poor girl, had agreed to stay no doubt because she was desperate to make a good first impression.”

“Which she had; she was a hard worker, polite - I couldn’t fault Mrs. Padget’s choice in her.” Edward added, “She would have been one of our best.”

“ It was the anniversary of Hester’s death if you remember and the whole affair had struck Alec very hard,” Burleigh said. “It was an awful bloody mess.”

“If I remember correctly,” Edward said, “You told me he spent the whole day drinking. That was no worse than normal.”

“ I spoke to him before I left. I thought he’d got a little...light fingered, if you understand me.”

“ I know he spent too much time at the tables. He always did, even when we were at university. But never anything that serious.”

Alfred nodded, “ He had taken to stealing things to fund the opiates, he’d help himself to booze from the cellar. I noticed things going missing. A few silver trinkets of Hester’s, a ring of my mother’s. I confronted him but he denied it all. There was no reason for him to steal, it’s not like he didn’t have the money, but I think it was the thrill of it. I know that sounds odd.” 

Edward shook his head, “No. People do strange things to feel alive.”

“Well, I was at my wits’ end with him, I really was. Anyway, Mrs P and Juliette were in London at a memorial for Hester. I thank God they were away.”

“Why are you telling me this now, Alfred?” Croft asked. “Why did you never mention it at the time?”

“Because I’m dying, Croft, and you’re all I’ve got left.”

“You’ve Juliette, Sir. Why not tell her?” 

Alfred shook his head and winced, looked out over the mute fields and then back at Edward. “Alec’s alive, Edward. He’s in a home in Millward Village. I hid that, too. I made sure you all thought he had died. With what had happened there was no way people could come to know.” The wind whipped up around them and Edward shivered, pulled his overcoat around him. 

“Alive?” Edward looked at Alfred open mouthed and incredulous, barely able to splice together the facts that Alfred had revealed. The thought that a man as warm and affable as Alec Burleigh could have done such a terrible thing and that Alfred would have tried to hide it was incomprehensible. 

Alfred continued, “ I’ve done all I can to ensure that this hasn’t got out. Once I’m gone, I must ask you to be the keeper of this secret. I trust you, Edward. I never meant-I never meant for it to end like this.”

“What did you do?” Edward asked, springing up from the bench, pacing in front of Alfred, his hands flying about him like flies,“Just...hang on a minute...What did you do?”

“An operation. I thought it would calm him but-”

“Jesus Christ,” Edward rubbed his face and sighed heavily, looking as Alfred again with incredulous, searching eyes, “I want to see him, Alfred. I want proof. Where is Alec now?”

“You will,” Burleigh said. “In time.” Burleigh shook his head, turned his massive frame towards the man in front of him. “ Sid down, lad. I’ll explain. I did not intend to hide it. I thought I was doing the right thing. The night was so bad I thought Alec had damn near killed Miss Bird. Alec was high as a kite on the booze and the pills that the doctors had given him to help with the delusions. I fear they made him worse, it’s why there was no trial, no legal...interference.”

“Isn’t that a neat coincidence?” Edward shook his head and leant forward on the bench. 

“ He was ill,” Alfred said. “If you had been a father you would have done the same for any boy of yours.”

“What did you do?” Edward asked, his voice tentative, half wishing not to know of the terrible details.

“I had him classified as insane. I used Hester’s death, against the police commissioner, then called in every favour I could in Westminster. I worked damn hard to keep what Alec had done to that girl secret and, in turn, what I did to him.” Alfred’s eyes grew dark. “It would have ruined this house and all the business we have. I’ll not have it come out now, Edward.”

“And now you want me to do the same?” the younger man asked. “You want me to keep your secrets. To hide Alec’s illness?” Edward shook his head, “he was my friend, sir. A kind and good man whose mind was blown apart by the war. He would never have laid a finger on any of the girls. Never. He was your son. He was my friend.”

“And I had this estate to think of, this legacy. What could I have done? It would have destroyed us.”

“Jesus, Alfred, why would you do such a thing?” Croft shook his head, “ I refuse to believe it. He can’t be. I carried his coffin myself.”

“It’s true. It must die when Alec’s body finally dies and it must die, my boy, with you. I intend, inevitably, to pass on the running of the estate and the title to Juliette after my death and your own rooms at Burleigh will always be yours.”

“ I suppose this is payment, isn’t it? Is that what you thought? For saving me? Helping my mother?”

“It’s not payment, Croft. It’s what being part of this set is. It’s how everyone knows where they belong. Anyway, perhaps it is about time I called in a favour.”

“Oh, I see.” Croft’s voice contained only the faintest hint of sarcasm. He tried desperately to focus on the ridges of his nails digging into the soft flesh of his palms, his tongue pushed against his teeth. Edward hesitated and then fell silent, his thoughts racing. There was only one other thing more important than the life the Burleigh family had given him that Burleigh could possibly have used against him and the thought of it made him sick. It congealed in his mind like some immovable stain. He swallowed and looked again at the man who had taken him in, employed him, given him an entire life, to form the word in his mouth, to realise the terrible threat. “Juliette.”

Burleigh nodded, “ I know you share so much with one another but you must keep this even from her. I’m sure you think you love her, Croft, and it’s no good keeping a secret from someone you care about but if she knew the truth or it got out in any way at all everyone on this estate would be done for. I’m not about to risk the reputation of this family and this house on talk of scandal. My daughter, for her goodness, is as opinionated and chatty as my late wife.”

Edward looked very seriously at Lord Burleigh, “I can’t keep secrets from Juliette, Alfred. You know what she means to me.” 

“And I can’t tell her because she’s already been through too much. It’s been too long, Alec. The secret’s secret now. It’s done and no one must ever know what I did - or about her brother. To tell her would be to hurt her even more.”

“To tell her would be to make her hate you,” Edward breathed, “And you’re frightened she would. Yet, you expect her to hate me instead, is that it?”

“I expect you to take your duty seriously,” Alfred’s voice hardened.

“So I am to live with this, am I? Do you really expect me to do that?”

“Yes,” Alfred admitted, “I’m afraid I do, Croft. It’s not something I’m proud to ask you but there have been...complications.”

“ A child?”

Alfred nodded, “Yes, a child. I am, ironically, possessed of an illegitimate grandchild. A boy called John. Absolutely healthy and vibrant with life. The split of Alec. I have promised Miss Bird that come what may she is to be helped and protected to the fullest of my ability for the rest of her days. It is the very least we can do given the fact her life has been irrevocably ruined. The very least.”

“Christ almighty!” Edward gasped, “Why would you do such a thing? Do you seriously believe you can throw money at it and this problem will go away?”

“Do you think I have another choice? The boy is my flesh, Croft. I have seen her and John frequently these past few months and have ensured their welfare for as long as I have been able to. She has an allowance which is wired to her at the beginning of each month from Lloyds in London, a private account set up especially for this purpose. The girl has a house in Birmingham, she is safe, she has nothing to worry about. Upon my death, it will be transferred into your name. The boy is to attend whichever school he can get into and Oxbridge after that.”

“Just as you did for me.”

Alfred nodded slowly, “Just as I did for you, yes. I oversee anything that she needs - money, furniture, clothes for the boy and the necessities for his education. However, in a few months or a few weeks, I know not which, I shall be unable to carry out this duty. Therefore, it must, Edward, fall to you.” 

“Jesus Christ,” Edward shook his head, “do I even have a choice?”

“You must,” Alfred’s eyes were wide then, desperate, “There’s no one else I can possibly trust with this.”

“Well, perhaps Juliette should know, after all the boy is also her nephew. Alec is...where?What have you done with him?”

“Alec is in a hospice for invalids in Milbrook village. It’s around thirty minutes by car.”

“I know where it is,” Edward hissed. “How on earth could you have done this?”

Alfred ignored Edward’s indignation and kept speaking, “They care for him well and he is safe there.”

Edward lit another cigarette and drew on it heavily, he offered the packet to Alfred. Alfred took one, watched intently as Edward pulled on the cigarette, the burning tip glowing in the long shadows that had begun to settle around them. It was after six and the household would soon be wondering where they had got to. 

The dark had fallen around them as a pall, Edward’s mind was empty as he stared out into the shadows of the garden, watched the light streak across the lawn from the house. He attempted to place the pieces together. How was it that he, a vicar’s son from Norfolk, had ended up at the very heart of a scandal in one of the oldest families in all of England? He thought for a while of how he had come to be there, his father’s death, of Juliette, of all the crowding, shocking thoughts that rushed at him now. “Alfred, you must tell her. It’s already terrible enough that Alec hurt that maid.”

“No,” Alfred banged his stick into the gravel path beneath their feet. “I’m sorry, Edward but it would ruin this family. It would destroy any chances Juliette may have of forming business contacts or even social ones. God forbid she try to make a suitable marriage - and at her age, too!”

“Don’t be absurd,” Edward said, “Juliette’s hardly concerned with the opinions of society, I assure you.”

“As much as you might not like it, society is very much concerned with you and me and every damn person on this estate having their place. ”

“That doesn’t have to be the case, Alfred.”

Alfred jabbed the air violently with his cane, “We have a responsibility to other people greater than ourselves. Order, Edward. Order must be maintained for the sake of the estate. Which, I might remind you, includes your own job. This must not get out.” 

Alfred breathed in short wheezing gasps, wiped at his mouth again with the handkerchief he’d pulled from his pocket. He sighed heavily, fixing a stony gaze upon the young man who was not only an employee but was akin to any of the sons he’d had. 

If he was honest with himself, there was a creeping part of Alfred Burleigh that knew Edward would do a fine job of running the estate and carrying on the legacy that his own father had left him and that he would soon be forced to leave to his beloved Juliette. His daughter was his last remaining child, no longer a child, but a headstrong and independent woman. A woman rather inconveniently in love with the man who currently sat next to him. 

Alfred surveyed the tangled web in front of him and wiped away the tears from his cheeks. His head was heavy and his chest was tight again, the medication that Dr. Ingram had prescribed was no longer working. Lord Burleigh knew his time was growing shorter with each breath, the thinning of the thread before it finally snapped for good. The wind shook the trees violently and he felt then, as though he had so much more to do and so little time in which to do it. It was as though he had been thrown into some great, violent storm and Burleigh was a ship that was sinking fast. He was constantly aware of the inevitable fingers of death, curling around his shoulders, the setting of the sun, the relentless slipping by of the days. He was not a man who was ready to die and yet, it seemed, he had no choice.

“Tell me, Edward, do you truly love my daughter?”

“Sir, I-” Edward stuttered, unsure of how to answer such a direct question.

“Fool,” Alfred laughed now, a rising rattle in his chest imparting an eeriness to his amusement, “This romance between yourself and my daughter is perhaps Broughton village’s worst kept secret.” 

“I-I didn’t know,” Edward admitted, “and, yes, Sir, yes I do love Juliette. I love her more than I can tell you but-”

“But you’re aware of the divide between you. She will, of course, become one of the country’s most eligible heiresses once I’m gone and you, Croft, are in our family’s employment. If not my Valet, then her footman, her butler, our driver, my confidante, her lover,”

“I wouldn’t-”

“Don’t be churlish, I’ve heard the doors at night. Besides, the point is you’re as much a part of this house as myself or Juliette or any one of my sons was. I made a promise to your father when he pulled me from that dugout; I promised him that I’d look after you. I made that promise to a man who we both loved. If not for me, at least do the right thing for him.” The thick wheeze of exertion poured like smoke from Alfred Burleigh’s chest and he smiled with nicotine stained teeth at Edward. “You’re a young man, you’re all that’s left here and if you love my daughter as you say you do it’s time you took your responsibility to this house seriously. It is time you looked after me.” 

His hand shook as he dabbed again at his mouth and yet, despite this, his eyes were unflinching, as steely and certain as they had always been. As though it was twenty-five years in the past and Burleigh was looking down a fierce political opponent. Kindness was never merely kindness for Alfred Burleigh.

Edward nodded, “I know that. You know how grateful I am. Don’t condescend to me. Don’t you dare,” Edward shook his head. “Don’t you do it, sir. It’s not right.”

“You know Juliette, Croft. You know how heavily it would strike her if she discovered her own brother had been capable of such a terrible act. The man was ill, wrong in the head, but it does not excuse his behaviour. There is no choice. Therefore, it seems to me there’s one solution to all of this that will still cause scandal but much less of a one than if people were to know about the dreadful business with Alec and Katie Bird and the damn operation.”

“And what would that be?” Edward asked.

“I’ll get to it; let me explain,” the older man pulled his coat around him, drew once more on the cigarette, “You love my daughter, that I don’t doubt. You’re also dedicated to this house, you’ve worked tirelessly for this family since you were a boy and worked as hard as I could have asked during your time studying at Oxford. You know this land, you live amongst its people. You’re a fine man, Edward and one I’d be proud to have as a son in law if I bloody make it.”

“Thank you sir,” despite the cold, despite the horror of Alec and the confusion of what was being revealed on that hillside, Edward beamed at Alfred, “Thank you, Alfred. I’d be honored to be as such but -”

“But what?” Alfred choughed, “Are you hesitating now, boy?”

“No sir, I’d fight the whole damn lot of you for Juliette, by Christ, I would.”

Alfred smiled, “Good. I’m glad you would, because you’re going to have to do so. I happily give you both my blessing, I always have, ever since you two were young. I thought it to be a teenage crush at first, the way Juliette would moon at you but it never went away, never left even as you both got older. I had hoped that once she was on the Debutante circuit, the whole silly business would be forgotten.”

“It was, for a while,”

“So we all thought, but then there was the night of her 25th birthday party and I saw you both in the laundry of all places and then I knew.”

“You saw us?” Edward, despite being too old for it, blushed fiercely, “Good God, you all knew all this time.”

“We all did,” Alfred nodded, “We all thought it would go away and yet, I saw you both together as you helped Juliette get the port out of her blouse and I realised you looked at her like I’d looked at Hester. There was such tenderness in that gesture, such humanity. Everything changed then, I knew there was no hope of her marrying the son of any Lord or Lady or Newsman. You loved her and she loved you and if that’s how two people feel well, there’s nothing to be done about it, is there?”

“No Sir,” Edward hesitated, unsure of what to say, how to begin to rationalise the corner he was slowly being walked into. “But how does this relate to Alec?”

“ It’s the solution, Croft. You’re a sharp man, I trust you to put Burleigh first. Just as you always have.”

Edward smiled, the expression tight at the corners, “I didn’t realise this illness induced sentimentality, Sir.”

“Far from it, death rather brings things into focus. We must maintain the order of this house, the situation we find ourselves in means that this really is the lesser of two evils.”

“I can’t lie to Juliette. What you’re asking me to do - “ Edward hesitated, shook his head at Alfred. In response, Burleigh’s face twisted with irritation. 

“Listen, in doing this, the Burleigh Estate is left in the hands of two people who are invested in its welfare, the bloodline will continue and there’ll be a few raised eyebrows in church on a Sunday, that’s all. Just keep the incident and the girl a secret.” 

“I can’t do that,” Edward said, “I cannot begin my marriage on a lie, Alfred. Juliette has to know.”

“You must, Edward. Think what would happen if people knew my son was a rapist and sat half alive, half dead in an asylum instead of where they believed him to be? Or that my shame was such that I lied to you all about his death? That we stood side by side and lowered a coffin full of bricks into the ground.”

“Jesus Christ, Alfred,” Edward shook his head, stared at the bent figure of Alfred Burleigh in front of him. “How on earth could you do this? How could you ask me to become part of it?”

“I had so little choice.”

“Nonsense, I cannot - no, I will not - marry Juliette and keep this secret from her just to save face.If Alec’s still alive then no matter what he’s done, Juliette deserves to know. If there’s a child then she deserves to know about him, too. The child is the heir to Burleigh.”

“The child is a bastard and has no right to this estate.”

Edward shook his head, his voice rising, carried upon the wind, “Do you know how often Irene Padget works in that kitchen and laments what happened to Katie? This affected us all deeply. Everyone thinks Alec died a drug-addled madman. ”

“The girl and Alec are safe and cared for. That’s all that matters.”

“Don’t we matter?” Edward’s rage began to simmer up, his indignance curling his hands into fists. “You covered it up and now you expect me to hide it, too. You expect me to hide your secret without question?”

“It’s the least you should be doing!” Burleigh snarled. “The very least! If you cared about Juliette or me then you would. It’s for the best.”

“And your guilt is assuaged, too I’m sure. This isn’t a problem you can throw money at now, Alfred. This is your son and his child and a lie that I can’t be forced to keep quiet. I must tell Juliette,” Edward said. “Anything else is impossible.”

“If I cannot be sure of your word, Edward, and Juliette comes to discover this then you shall both be without the estate so long as I’m bloody breathing. I will write you both out of it!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Alfred!”

“ But, if you do, if you do as I’ve asked and wait it out, the fortune and the estate will pass to you by marriage to Juliette.”

“No!” Edward stood up, stepped away from the man who’d treated him like a son, “Do not hold this over my head, Alfred. I love Juliette and I love this estate and, bloody hell, I love you, too, you old fool, but I absolutely cannot do that to Juliette, I can’t. Imagine if Hester was still alive, what would she say? What would she say about you locking up Alec in a hospital? About this operation you agreed to?”

“She would understand that sometimes we have to do unpleasant things for the greater good to maintain peace, Edward. That’s what she would have said. That’s what bloody killed her; an unpleasant thing for the greater good. Well, this is mine.” 

“It’s not the same, is it?” Edward shook his head, “I can’t lie to Juliette. How?” His eyes were full of tears, “How long has this been the case? How long had you waited before you decided to ask this of me? How on earth did you think that trying to bribe me with this house would secure my loyalty, Alfred? Do you think my love for Juliette is so shallow and empty and base that I’d sign up for this on a lie?”

“You’re more of a romantic fool than I thought. Think about it, it’s a solid plan. It keeps order. Edward, marry Juliette, keep looking after Alec in the hospital as I’ve requested and each month wire the money to Katie Bird. That’s all you have to do and in return you’ll inherit everything you see before us, the hand of the woman you love, a secure and safe life that a Vicar’s son from the middle of nowhere could only have dreamed of. Edward, look what I am offering you; everything you could ask for. Love, wealth, happiness, status. If the bloody King can marry an American then you can marry my daughter. All I ask-”

“All you ask is for me to build this great and gilded life on a lie, Alfred. That is what you ask. You ask me to discard the pain and trauma of others, to shut away your son, pay off your grandchild and lie to Juliette-”

“For the good of this household, yes I do. I do ask you to do this because it is how order has been maintained for generations. It is how people know their place and how society works, boy. It’s to be done because it’s always been done.”

“They’re not a business, Alfred, they’re people.”

“The world is run by people making unpleasant choices every day. Now stop being such a bloody idealist and come to your senses. It’s the best of a bloody great mess of things, Edward.”

“Your mess,” Edward’s shoulders slumped forward and he rubbed at his eyes, looked up at Alfred, “I need to think, Alfred. I can’t possibly reconcile everything you have told me now. What on earth happened to Alec?”

Alfred sighed heavily, looked out over the hills and the valley below, watched Jim Rawlings and his son, Stephen push a plough through heavy earth like tiny toy figures on the landscape. He thought of how hard the Rawlings worked, how easy his life had been by comparison and sighed, wondered if this was the price he paid for it.

Burleigh spoke again, “Dr. Ingram suggested that Alec be given a new kind of surgery, one that had shown positive results on patients in America. It was called a prefrontal leucotomy; the doctors were to drill small holes in Alec’s skull and sever the connections in his brain that was making him ill. They assured me it had worked for others. After what had happened I was prepared to try whatever I could.”

“ I know how desperate you were, but this?” Edward shook his head. “I always believed Dr. Ingram to have good judgement. How could he have recommended such a thing?”

“He did not perform the operation. It’s very new and he warned that it was possible but there were most certainly risks. At the time, he would not condone it outright. It was new and experimental but I was desperate. I went to a surgeon in Birmingham, another in Manchester, a third on Harley Street. I consulted every specialist who was performing the operation in England. I wrote letters to several more in America. The first procedure of this kind was only performed a few years ago by a Portuguese doctor - a man named Moniz - I had heard about it being done in the United States, there were cases where people had been greatly calmed by the surgery. I felt after what had happened that it was the only way, the only hope we had left that maybe he might be well again, Edward.”

“And that Burleigh might retain its final heir, well enough to inherit, I presume?” Edward said.

Alfred nodded, “I knew the risks but I never thought it would happen. When I saw Alec afterward, he could barely speak, he didn’t know-”

“Good God,” Edward watched as great, keening sobs, shook the old man, his tired lungs rasping with the weight of sadness and guilt, “What happened?”

“He was incoherent, he was...he was gone, Edward. He was like a child.”

“What did the doctors say?” Edward flicked the spent butt away and pulled the packet of cigarettes from his pocket, lit one and handed it over to Lord Burleigh. “Take it,” he placed the cigarette between the old man’s fingers and lit another for himself. 

“They said that he would get better, that it was temporary but, of course, the damage to the brain was unable to be corrected. He has been permanently retarded by this procedure.” Alfred began keening again, sobs wracking his failing body, “He’s a sliver of the man he once was, Edward. I have done a terrible thing and dashed all our hopes in doing so.”

“And where is he now? You mentioned Millbrook-” Edward’s voice was tender and low, as though soothing a small child not the leviathan who had pulled him from obscurity from his rectory bedroom all those years ago. In that moment he spoke not to the great Lord Burleigh who had lived a life of the mind, of thought and politics and commerce, but a frightened, old man. 

Alfred nodded, “He is well cared for. Alive but not living and it is because of me.” He mopped at his eyes with shaking hands, the handkerchief crumpled and sodden between them. 

“You were trying to do your best, Alfred? Were you? By lying to us all?”

“I’ve told you,” Alfred’s voice raised, “He was wild, a madman, I was desperate. I knew you loved Juliette, I know Burleigh matters to you both. Alec nearly killed that poor girl and it’s better he’s safe and warm somewhere than swinging at the end of a rope, isn’t it?”

“Is it?” Edward said, “Your own son? Sacrificed to save your reputation?”

“That’s not what it was!” Small beads of spittle formed at the corners of Alfred’s mouth and he wiped them away with the handkerchief. “I was thinking of us all. Of what was best for us. Of what was best for him.”

“How is this better?” 

“Edward, do you see the difficulty of this? I was so ashamed I felt it better he be consigned to the earth, hidden away. I felt it a kinder fate that he should have died then than my own shame.” 

“Bloody hell, Alfred. Why didn’t you tell me? We could have fixed it. It was no-one’s fault. People would have understood but to have carried out this charade to save your own pride. It was...inexcusable. And now you expect me to be a party to it and you try to bribe me into it?” Edward shook his head, “No, Sir, that will not do. Juliette deserves more than a life built on deceit.” 

Alfred coughed hard, his chest crackling as he spoke, “It’s not deceit, Edward,” Alfred said, “It’s a kindness. It’s what we should do.”

“Don’t be stupid, Alfred.”

“I won’t think twice about dismissing you if I need to, Croft. Remember that. Marry her and keep the secret or don’t marry her at all. But then you’ll be out. I have to protect this house if it’s the last thing I do. What can you possibly begin to understand about maintaining a legacy more than five hundred years old? Do not forget that beneath that oxbridge education you’re still a country boy from Norfolk. Under my roof, with an education and a job I bloody paid for.” 

Edward strode a few feet away and gathered himself. Croft looked out over the darkening hillsides reproaching himself for being such a fool, for kindness was never merely kindness when it came to Alfred Burleigh. “That’s your problem, isn’t it?” Edward said, turning back to Alfred, his voice acerbic. “There’s always terms and conditions with you, aren’t there? Of course you’d ask me to do it. Fred’s too old and he probably said no. The Padgets could be sacked and take their pensions and live quite happily in the village but me? Oh no, you know I have given my whole life to this house and have nothing else. I have been kept short my entire life. You know that you can use Juliette against me. How dare you-”

Before Edward could speak further Burleigh’s cane came down hard against his left arm and he winced in pain. The older man’s face was inches from his own. “You ungrateful bastard, after everything I’ve done for you this is how you behave? The only reason you’re not in the slums yourself is because I took you in, educated you, fed you, clothed you, gave you a bloody job, paid for the doctors that saved your mother’s life and this is how you repay my kindness?”

“”You can’t blackmail me, Alfred. I shan’t-”

“Well then, you can leave tonight.” Alfred was silent for a moment, his mouth curling up like burning paper. 

“Those things are mine, you gave them to me,” Edward smouldered with rage.

“Juliette does not belong to you,” Alfred said, the words twisted like a knife back at Edward, their implication glinting between them. “I have contacts in the Foreign Office that can get her on a boat to Ceylon faster than you can unzip your trousers so do not test me, Croft. Do what I’m paying you to do.”

“How dare you insult both of us like that,” Croft drew his coat around him and walked into the bracken, “You can make your own way home. I’ll not betray Juliette, sir. Not for a minute.”

“ I know people, Edward.” The words sailed through the air and hit Croft with an icy shiver that settled between his shoulder blades, winding him with their implication. Alfred waited for him to turn. 

“You’re an idiot, Alfred,” Edward shook his head. “You wouldn’t dare.”

The older man fixed his gaze squarely on Edward, hissing with anger. “I’ll make sure that no one in this country will ever employ you again,” Alfred’s eyes were hard, his mouth a fixed line, “And I’ll be sure to let Juliette know just how you brutalised Miss Bird while promising your so-called love to my daughter.” 

Looking back on that moment, Edward did not know where the strength he found to push Alfred Burleigh against the bench came from but it came nonetheless. Edward’s hands were curled around the dying man’s lapels, his face inches from the face of the man who had saved him. “You do any such thing-”

Burleigh said nothing, his mouth twitching with boyish amusement. Edward stepped away shaking, letting Burleigh know the battle had already, inevitably, been won. Burleigh pushed forth a heavy, mocking laugh that made Edward shudder. “Stupid boy,” the man laughed, “you’re too frightened of losing her to do anything else. You just see,” Burleigh leant forward once more, standing and walking over to where Edward stood at the foot of the path that led back down the hillside. “You owe me, Croft. Besides,” Burleigh drew his gloves from his pocket, began pulling them on, “I’m not worried about this sentimental attachment Juliette has to you,” Burleigh pulled on the second glove. “She knows as well as I do that she could never marry a man like you. Someone else will turn her head soon enough.” 

Croft said nothing, felt the place where Burleigh had hit him smart and hum with pain under the heavy wool of his coat. Burleigh walked ahead of him, muttering to himself before finally turning a few yards up the path, beaming towards Edward as though looking upon a favoured child. “Come on,” He said, “They’ll be wondering where we’ve got to. Don’t want to be late for dinner, do we?” 

Edward’s mind was filled with panic, his chest tight, his arm, which always got worse when he was agitated, burned with discomfort. He jammed his right hand into his pocket and followed Burleigh back down the hillside. The bracken was brown and damp, the air alive with petrichor. On the horizon, birds swooped into the trees and pigeons called out to the dusk with the soft cah-cah that reminded Edward of being a boy. Now, though, he was a man with a debt upon his shoulders for a loan he had no memory of taking out. He hissed under his breath, stepping over stones and large boulders on the walk down, the old man huffing in front of him. Eventually they reached the flat path that led around the side of the house and back to the front door. It passed the kitchens and the vegetable beds and the walled garden where, twenty years back, Lady Burleigh had planted a rose garden. 

Edward stepped away, sheltering under the lintel of the walled garden. “ I’ll see you later, Sir.”

Burleigh said nothing, grunted and walked on, back to the house. Edward pulled out the cigarettes and felt a surge of adrenaline kick him in the chest, rearing up like a flighty horse. He lit the cigarette with shaking hands, trying desperately to comprehend the enormity of what Burleigh had just told him. How could it be? Edward thought, Alec alive, Katie Bird dismissed not for her own bad behaviour but Alec’s. Edward shook his head, dragged on the cigarette. 

“Are you alright, love?” Irene Padget stood at the top of the three small steps that led up to the back door of the house on the opposite side of the kitchen garden. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Edward let out a low laugh, despite himself, “Fine, Irene. Just fine. Have you seen Juliette?” 

“Oh, you’re looking for her, too, are you? His Lordship asked after her earlier,” Irene shifted the basket of vegetables she was holding from one hand to the other. “Has something happened?”

“No, no, Mrs.P, Don’t worry,” Edward lied, “I was just wondering, that’s all. His Lordship had asked me where she was too.” 

“Well, if you want to know, she’s at the Rawlings’ farm. They’re taking on WLA girls tomorrow so Juliette wants to make sure that everything is in good order. You know how she is.”

“I do.”

“Well,” Irene’s breath made icy plumes around her, “I’ll let her know she’s wanted when she gets back. And, just from me to you, Edward, I’d be bloody careful about-”

“What?” Edward snapped. He closed his eyes, regretting it immediately.

“You know,” Irene leant against the wall, her voice sharp,her knuckles white around the pale green edges of the basket, “this carrying on you and her Ladyship have been doing. It’ll come to no good, I’ll say that now. His Lordship has been asking questions.”

“It’s none of his bloody business, nor yours.”

“It is when you’re part of my staff. You might not be my son, Edward, but you’ve lived here long enough to be part of this household. One day that woman is going to have her head turned by some Lord or Earl or what have you and then you and your broken heart will be on your own. Find yourself a nice girl from the village, love. It’s better that way. Anyway, with all the others gone, they’re ten a penny now.” She smiled tenderly at him, “Dinner’s at eight. I’ll see you then.” 

Irene walked back inside and closed the door to the boot room behind her. For a few moments she watched the young man sit and smoke a cigarette. Then she sent a silent prayer up to Lady Hester Burleigh, a woman who had been first her employer and then, a fellow suffragette and ultimately, a dear friend.  _ Well, Hester, _ Irene thought,  _ looks like flightiness runs in the family, doesn’t it? _

  
  


To Edward Croft that there was only one, terrible thing left to be done if he was to protect Juliette and minimise the damage her father could do to them both. The thought of it made him sick to the pit of his stomach. His whole life had been lived on the Burleigh Estate and he loved it as if it had been his own. He knew the smell of the roses in May and the songs Irene hummed when she cooked and the rhythms of the fields as well as his own heartbeat. He had grown up alongside Mike Falmer, watched his friend inherit his father’s farm, raise children of his own. He had raised a pint to John Hargreaves and held hands with his wife, Betty when the telegram had come on that bright August day the year before. He and Juliette had walked through Burleigh’s orchards and sunbathed at the river and sang songs around the piano at Christmas. He had played cricket in the summer with Fred and Alec and a dozen other men from the village. Burleigh was his home. To leave it felt impossible. Edward watched from the step and then settled back on the bench that was built into the wall. He let out a heavy, resigned sigh, more aware than ever that he was deeply in love with Juliette Burleigh and that sometimes, loving people meant letting them go. 

Later, after eatin g with Juliette and her father Edward sat in his own quarters, the fire stoked with a little wood and the remains of a cup of tea at his side. His rooms had been his since he’d arrived as a fifteen year old boy on the cusp of being orphaned. Over the years, they had filled with the accumulated detritus of his life; A few spartan cooking implements settled next to a stove and three small shelves with a single set of china upon it. To the right was a small sink, ordered neatly with soap in its now customary bag made from an old stocking. In the left corner of the room was a table, pushed up into the corner, two chairs either side of it. There was a door to the bedroom and directly ahead of it, a small celadon and white bathroom that was neatly ordered and meticulously clean. Bookshelves lined the back wall and an old armchair was positioned by a small heater that he rarely switched on. The desk was adjacent to it, pushed up into the right corner of the room, hidden partially from view as a person entered. It made a fine writing space, warm and comfortable and quiet. To any of the few guests that visited, the apartment was small but well lived in, cosy and welcoming. It smelled of oranges and cigarettes and the musky vetiver of the toilet soap that Juliette would always buy him each year at Christmas from Penhaligon’s in Covent Garden. The room was singularly his and, on occasion, Juliette’s. He picked up a thin, gold necklace that she’d left upstairs and slipped it into his pocket, intending to return it with the letter.

In front of him was a blank piece of paper and the thought of filling it felt like cowardice. He pulled an old, checked dressing gown around himself and walked down the back stairs to the first floor of the house.

A single lamp was on at the end of the hallway. Edward paced quietly down the corridor, his hands sweating and his stomach flipping with nausea like the very first time he had made this journey. Now though, it was not with the thrill of anticipation but the slick sickness of dread that came upon him. Shame and heartbreak and for a fleeting, uncharacteristic moment, rage settled around his shoulders. When he arrived at the appropriate door he found he could barely touch the familiar brass handle, as if to do so would leave him with a searing burn across his palm. He knocked three times as normal and waited for the patter of Juliette’s familiar footfall. It soon came, as it had so many times before, and she reached out into the corridor for him as loving and tender as always.

“Darling,” she smiled, “I haven’t seen you since dinner. What did my Father want?”

“Sorry,” he smiled at her, kissed her on the mouth. The thought that it would most likely be the last time made him grimace. 

“What is it?” Juliette’s dark eyes searched his face, her hand touching his arm as she closed the door behind him with care. It was past midnight and the house was silent.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said. It wasn’t a lie, at least, in a night sure to be filled with yet more lies. “I have to talk to you.”

“We can talk later,” she kissed him again on the mouth, her hand reaching up to push open the buttons on his shirt. His hand flew upward fast, his mind racing with panic, his poor Jules. He wanted nothing more then than to take her in his arms and kiss her and tell her every sordid detail. He wanted to pack their bags and get in the car and never come back from the mire that Burleigh had placed him in. Yet, he knew that to do such a thing to Juliette would be to cut her off from society, from any money she might have inherited and life that she might build. Of his own, he had nothing to offer her. It was kinder to step away, to do as Burleigh had ordered and let Juliette marry the sort of person that was expected of her. 

“No, Juliette, it’s serious,” he moved her into the room, steered her to the couch opposite the bed and settled her onto it. Amid the pillows and the silk throws she looked more lovely than usual. Once more he cursed himself for his own fear, for the inevitability of breaking her heart. 

“Whatever is it?” Juliette’s brow creased as she turned to him, her eyes full of concern. “Darling, what’s wrong? Has something happened? Is your shoulder playing up again?”

“No,” Edward smiled at her, tender and regretful in such a way that Juliette saw it instantly. 

“Oh,” the sound escaped from her with near subconscious realisation, “What is it?” she repeated. 

“Your father,” Edward said, “He knows about us.”

“What?” Juliette laughed impatiently, her manicured hands settling on her hips. “Oh, goodness me! Is that all? I’ll talk to him. Oh, bloody hell. Well,” she said, re-tying the belt on her bathrobe and curling her feet under her. For a moment she hesitated and then stood to join him, her hand settling with reassurance over his, “We knew this day would come eventually didn’t we? It won’t be easy but-”

“He’s forbidden me from seeing you any longer,” Edward said, rushing forward with the half-truth and hating himself for it. Watching Juliette leap up from him with shock, as though the revelation had been a slap. 

“He can’t.” Juliette shook her head, “He absolutely will not. Not now, I’m able to make my own decisions about who I love.”

“He says he’ll disinherit you if we continue. I tried so hard to persuade him, and told him how silly it was that he should say such a thing. He even admitted that he knew we loved each other and still, he vowed to disinherit you.” 

“Well,” Juliette hissed, the air rushing through her teeth, “Then bloody let him.”

“You know he’s ill, Juliette. He’s worried about the estate. He wants you to make a good marriage.”

“What?” She said, “And you’re not? Is that it?”

“I believe so,” Edward lied, shame swarming like insects around him. In their wake, Edward thought of what Burleigh had said on the hillside. Maybe he had been right; Edward felt shamefully weak as he spoke, “I’m sorry, my love.” It seemed a pitiful response, after everything. Of course his sweet, kind Jules would have fought for him to the end.  _ Of course she would have. _

“I love you, you know that. I’d sign everything away at a moment’s notice for you-” Juliette stopped dead, her eyes then meeting with Edward’s. The face she’d loved and trusted now appeared as a mask, alien and jarring in the shadowy light of the room. “What?” Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m going to do what’s right, Juliette,” Edward began, the words felt wrong in his mouth, as though someone else’s voice spoke in place of his, as though each and every ghost of Burleigh Hall existed within him and he had vanished entirely. “I’ve got to do what’s right. You can’t destroy yourself by marrying me. I have to do as your father asks though it kills me to do so. I must let you be with someone who can give you a life I can’t. There is duty to think of now.”

“No, you won’t,” Juliette sighed. “I don’t want that life. It killed my mother. You have made me better, Edward. You have made me braver. We can fight him, of course we can. We can have a different life, my love, I know we can. WE can do real work here, help people, build something. Fight this bloody war.”

“Can we? He said he’d known for a long time, that he was worried with him being ill that he wouldn’t have an heir. He says he’s leaving the Estate to you but-”

“But what?” Juliette sighed, “That you’re not good enough? That you don’t know this house and this land better than anyone else I could possibly marry? Darling, I’ll talk to him.”

“It’s the gap, you know that as well as I do, Jules. I’m no Earl’s son, or Lord or rich industrialist. I’ve nothing of my own, Juliette. I’ve a small pension, a little in savings. Nothing at all compared to him and he knows it as well as you and I do. I’m a widow’s son from the middle of nowhere. I might sound like you and dress like you but I’ll always be the country boy that your father took pity on. It cannot do.” 

“And yet, you’ve become a bigger snob than all of them,” Juliette hissed. “I love you, Edward. Doesn’t that matter? I love you.” Foreboding swept over her and she gasped as thought struggling for breath. Her words failed her then. Juliette’s body rushed hot and cold and then, nothing. Time itself seemed to slip around her as a creeping unctuousness. “No,” was all that she could manage, plaintive and defeated in the oncoming rush of the unspoken realisation. “Darling, no, no, no, no.” Juliette shut her eyes, willing the tears not to come. She could not even bring herself to look at the figure of Edward Croft who now stood opposite her ashamed and forlorn. At the most vital hour, it seemed he had betrayed her. 

“Please,” he said, “I hope you can understand,” He reached out to her, his once tender hands now too strange for Juliette to grasp. 

“Don’t touch me,” she breathed, “Edward, no, you can’t possibly-” once more, Juliette’s voice failed. Drowned out by the great, rushing numbness that overcame her. 

“Imagine the scandal, Juliette. Cast out with nothing, how would we live?”

“Oh, God...What...What did you tell him?” Juliette asked, the tears receding, her body braced against the frame of the bed, “What did you say?” 

“I told him I would end it tonight,” Edward admitted, the lie caught in his throat.

Juliette was silent then, found herself unable to say anything; not a word of anger or sadness. Juliette could not even find it within herself to beg and plead with him. She found her mind so full of deafening emptiness that her concrete tongue would not move. In his decision, Juliette - so bright and strong and determined - had become defeated, inept and helpless. Softened as though beaten like some stray dog or by a fist that was always, inevitably coming. It had taken years, but it was here, that great galloping fear that had always been there, waiting for them as though they were the quarry of fate. And yet, now the day had come, real and tangible, it felt more dreamlike than Juliette could possibly have conceived. She exhaled hard and looked away, nodded, her pale hands curled around the bed frame. Edward stepped forward, kissed her hair, inhaled deep and long and with depthless regret that he knew would haunt him, breathed two words into her hair. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Juliette waited until the door clicked. The silence of the house was deafening, like the sound of a great stone being pushed over the opening of her life, leaving her alone in the room that was suddenly a sealed tomb, as though watching a bright and shining future slip helplessly away. He had gone and with him, she knew, a piece of herself had passed from her that night. The bright, happy future she had seen for a single, fleeting moment had vanished. Like a ribbon in the wind, Edward Croft had slipped so suddenly from her grasp. Their happiness, diaphanous and dissolved. 

Juliette crawled into bed and turned off the light. She sat against the headboard and looked out at the moonlit fields and then, from deep within her came a drowning wave of tears.

On the other side of the door, Edward listened with shame in his heart to her low and awful weeping. Stepping forward, the floorboard directly in front of him creaked in protest. The house moaning in the night, as though personally affronted by what had taken place. Edward closed his eyes and felt it in his bones; The regret and shame at what he had done in order to keep Alfred Burghley’s secrets hummed like some awful sickness within him. 

  
  



End file.
